


The One Where Sherlock Gets Jealous of a Picture John Posts Online

by liveindenver



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Anal Fingering, Chatting & Messaging, Coming on Face, Facials, Jealous Sherlock, M/M, Pining Sherlock, Teenagers, Teenlock, Texting, Virgin Sherlock, as in the sexual kind, online
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 09:02:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6111598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liveindenver/pseuds/liveindenver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John are best friends.  Sherlock is harboring a secret crush on John.  One day, John posts a picture of himself and a girl and Sherlock gets completely jealous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Sherlock Gets Jealous of a Picture John Posts Online

**Author's Note:**

> This one got away from me. It was supposed to be a short 1k piece, but this is how it ended up. Enjoy :)

capnwatson15: hey sherlock! my mom said i can go over tonight.  is it still alright with your parents?

ScienceOfDeduction: Yes, Mycroft has a piano recital, so mother and father will be out late.  Come over whenever.  Window will be open, like always.

 

 

Sherlock did some rudimentary cleaning, really just getting the most embarrassing things out of the way.  John’s been here almost nonstop the past two years, and there isn’t much he hasn’t seen.  However, Sherlock does make it a point to ensure his pants aren’t just lying around and his hair products are safely tucked away in Mycroft’s bathroom for the time being.  No point in letting anyone know he uses a bit of product in his hair.  He walks to his bed, and climbs over, reaching for the latch on his window, he moves it up, and pushes it just the smallest bit open.  It’s enough for John to get a few fingers through, and pull open the rest of the way.  It’s a technique they’ve perfected at this point, with all the time John spends here.  It’s always seemed a bit easier this way.  When John walks through the front, Sherlock is later tormented about John by Mycroft.  He is aware of Sherlock’s sexual proclivities and have taken it upon himself to assume John is his boyfriend.  While Sherlock does nothing to actively deny these claims, he would rather not have it brought up often, as it causes a bit of distress knowing it’s not true.  Besides that, when John climbs the tree, Sherlock can see his muscles bulging, even in the winter when John is forced to wear jumpers and his letterman jacket.

 

So, Sherlock opens the window and sits down with his chemistry homework, knowing that John will end up copying the work before he heads back home.  

 

 

 

JOHN WATSON (5:44pm): hey sherlock! picking up the chinese you like so you HAVE 2 eat it :)

SHERLOCK HOLMES (5:47pm): Stop with the smiley face, John.

JOHN WATSON (5:48pm): no :) 

 

 

 

John shows up twenty minutes later, Chinese food stuffed in his backpack, and pushes the window open, unceremoniously dumping his things onto Sherlock’s bed, before tumbling in after it.  

“Oi, help me out, you git!,” John says with a chuckle.

Sherlock ambles over, pulling John’s backpack off his bed and onto the floor. 

“What are you staying for the rest of the year?,” Sherlock groaned as he struggled to move the bag, which was clearly overpacked.

“Just figured I would go ahead and pack everything I needed this time.  Wont have to go home for days now.  Let’s eat!” John replied, giving Sherlock another dazzling smile that always seemed to make Sherlock’s heart flutter.

 

 

 

 

capnwatson15: did i leave my maths homework on your desk?

ScienceOfDeduction: No, I don’t see it anywhere.

capnwatson15: check under the lamp

ScienceOfDeduction: It’s here.  I’ll give it to you before class in the morning.

capnwatson15: check that i got number 4 right

ScienceOfDeduction: I corrected it for you.  Idiot.  You’re welcome :)

capnwatson15: see :) i :) knew :) you :) liked :) my :) smiley :) face :)

ScienceOfDeduction: Idiot :)

ScienceOfDeduction: Go to sleep.  See you in the morning, John.

 

 

JOHN WATSON (11:28am): so practice got cancelled.  im free this afternoon now.  wanna go sneak into the science lab?  

SHERLOCK HOLMES (11:31am): You said you wouldn’t go with me.  If I remember correctly, you said, “The only way I’ll go with you is if you come to every rugby match the rest of the year.”  You know I won’t be going, John.

JOHN WATSON (11:32am): changed my mind.  meet you after hudsons class :)

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Hey, Sherlock.  I know it’s kind of late to call, but I know you’re not asleep, yet._

**What’s wrong, John?**

_Nothing._

**John.**

_Look, I don’t want to talk about it, okay?_

**Did you see Anderson during Watkins class today?**

_Yea, I can’t believe that guy._

**Complete idiot, isn’t he?**

_Yea.  Hey, Sherlock.  Is it too late to come over?_

**John, will you please just tell me what’s wrong?**

**John, come on, you know you can tell me.**

_Sorry, Sherlock.  I gotta go._

 

 

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock’s brushing his teeth when he hears his window creak, and John crawling through, onto the bed.  John walks through the room, avoiding the clothes strewn over the floor, and makes his way into the bathroom.  Standing next to Sherlock, he reaches up, and opens the medicine cabinet, pulling out the spare toothbrush he keeps here for other nights like this.  The ones where he has to call at 2 in the morning, because things aren’t going well at his house again.  

Sherlock doesn’t mind, though.  These are the nights when John will lay with him in bed, and wake up with him in the morning.  It’s not a lot, but right now, it’s all that Sherlock has.

 

 

 

 

Sometimes Sherlock will wonder if John is aware of the magnitude of emotions that Sherlock feels for him.  It seems like sometimes, Sherlock will get a look from John, like maybe he feels it, too.  Sometimes, at school they’ll walk a little too close together.  Or someone will make a joke about the two of them being too good of friends.  At night, occasionally, when John is at Sherlock’s, they’ll lay pressed together, while still fully conscious.  Then again, surely it’s not normally for two teen boys to still sleep in the same bed at sleepovers.  More times than Sherlock can remember, they’ve woken up, intertwined with each other.  John, with a hand on Sherlock hip, Sherlock’s long legs twisted around John.  Faces just a few inches apart.  

 

 

 

 

JOHN WATSON (6:17pm): sherlock

JOHN WATSON (6:17pm): sherlock hi :)

JOHN  WATSON (6:18pm): whatcha doin? :)

JOHN WATSON (6:19pm): sherlock :)

SHERLOCK HOLMES (6:19pm): Yes, John?

JOHN WATSON (6:20pm): im done with practice now

JOHN WATSON (6:21pm): lets go get food tonight or go see a film or something

JOHN WATSON (6:22pm): then can i stay over tonight?

SHERLOCK HOLMES (6:24pm): Give me twenty minutes, I’ll meet you at Angelo’s.

JOHN WATSON (6:24pm): :)

 

 

 

Sherlock registers the quietness of his house before he even opens his eyes.  Mycroft out of town, mummy and daddy must be at an early Saturday morning breakfast down the road.  It’s quiet in a way that it normally isn’t.  Sherlock’s eyes open quickly as he feels humid breath on his face,  He sees John Watson’s face, barely an inch from his, mouth slightly open, still fast asleep.  Sherlock takes a minute to appreciate the sight before him.  Usually John is awake far before he is.  Sherlock feels a slight pressure on his lower back, as he realizes that he’s wrapped completely in John’s arms, their legs hooked together under the covers.  Sometime in the night, John must have gotten hot, because he’s removed his shirt, and Sherlock flattens his palms onto John’s bare stomach.

“Mmm, Sherlock, morning,” John rasps out, voice scratchy, eyelashes fluttering open for a brief moment, and snuggling further into Sherlock.  Sherlock takes a chance, and breathes in as deep as he can, reveling in John’s scent.  He freezes as he feels rough, slightly chapped lips, press into his neck, right above his collarbone.  Assuming it must surely be a mistake, Sherlock doesn’t think anything of it until he hears a slight moan from John, and two more kisses, in quick succession, making their way closer toward Sherlock’s mouth.  

John finally opens his eyes, and looks into the gray green ones for a moment, before pressing forward, lips connecting to lips.  Sherlock gasps at the surprise of it, and John takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into Sherlock’s mouth, moving the kiss along from chaste to something more passionate.  John moans into the kiss, and Sherlock can feel John’s hard length pressing against his stomach.  Sherlock’s heart starts fluttering in a way that he didn’t even know was possible, and he kisses back as best as he can, trying to maintain control of his breathing, making sure he doesn’t get too overwhelmed.  There’s a brief reprieve as John’s phone starts going off, alerting him of a new text.  He pulls back a little, a presses two, three, four, quick, simple kisses to Sherlock’s mouth, before he rolls over to find his phone.  

 

“Oh, fuck.  Sorry, Sherlock.  It’s Coach Lestrade.  We had a meeting twenty minutes ago.”

“Yea, go, John.  You’re the captain.  You can’t miss it.”

“Yea, it’s just, fuck.  I’m sorry, Sherlock.”

 

 

 

Sherlock was in the middle of an experiment on different types of tobacco ash, when an alert went off on his phone.  Turning to see, Sherlock broke into a smile at the message

*capnwatson15 uploaded a new photo*

Removing his gloves, Sherlock grabbed his phone, loading the new picture.  His heart sank as his eyes started blurring, tears forming in his eyes.  There was John, dressed in the same clothes he was wearing when he left Sherlock’s a few hours ago—  after kissing him, standing next to Mary Morstan, his arm around her shoulders.  Sherlock felt a funny knot in the pit of his stomach as he lowered himself onto his bed, arms covering his eyes, and cried.

 

 

 

capnwatson15: sherlock

capnwatson15: hey sherlock u there?

 

 

JOHN WATSON (7:59pm): hey sherlock 

JOHN WATSON (8:16pm): whats up sherlock

 

 

_Hey, Sherlock.  It’s, uh, well, it’s John, but you know that.  You know my voice.  Oh, yea, and I mean, my number is saved in your phone.  I just wanted to say hey, I guess.  I mean, I haven’t heard from you since Saturday morning, and I dunno.  Just like text me, maybe?  I mean, it’s just Sunday night, but that’s a long time for us and I don’t know. Did I do something wrong, Sherlock?  Just call me, or text me, or message me, or I don’t know.  Just, something, please._

 

 

Sherlock laid in his bed, having barely moved the past two days.  His mum opened the door, and peeked inside, looking worried.

“Sherlock, we need to leave in five minutes.  Why aren’t you ready?”

“Mum, I just don’t feel well.  I don’t think I can make it to school today,” Sherlock whined, he didn’t even need to fake his voice, he really did sound that pathetic.

“Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?  Must be something awful if you can’t make it to school.  I’ll call and let them know you won’t be in.  Call me if you need anything,” she said, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 

 

 

JOHN WATSON (8:52am): hey sherlock i havent seen you around school yet. u here?

JOHN WATSON (9:47am): hey can u just let me know ur alright?  

 

 

 

capnwatson15: hey sherlock. you werent at school today.  you know that already its just that you never miss and im starting to worry

 

 

 

 

It’s been four days since John left.  Four days that they haven’t talked and it feels like a lifetime, but Sherlock hasn’t been able to get out of bed.  He looked at the picture John posted of him and Mary so many times that his phone died by Saturday evening and he hadn’t even gotten up to charge it.  After deciding that, yes, a shower is necessary at this point, Sherlock got up, and plugged his phone, before making his way to the bathroom.  After a cursory shower, he trudged his way back to where his phone had been charging and saw that it was nearing 3 in the morning.  He unlocked his phone, and the first thing that showed up was the picture John posted of him and Mary.  Without stopping to think, he dialed John’s number, not considering what would happen if he actually did answer the phone.  

 

 

 

**I know we were never officially together, or anything, but seeing that picture you posted online with Mary literally felt like you carved my heart out of my chest, and stomped on it and I’m not really sure why I’m leaving this voicemail, but my pillow still smells like you and I miss your stupid face.**

 

 

 

“Oh, shit.”  Sherlock rasps out, realizing what he just did.  “No, no, no.  No.  No, no, no,” he started muttering, pacing around his bed.  He quickly turned his phone off, and threw it down on his bed, falling to floor, cradling his head in his hands.  Being in love with John was one thing.  Admitting to John how he felt was unacceptable.  Sherlock had to stop his heaving breaths before he worked himself into a panic attack.  He had to consider how to fix this.  If he didn’t, he would lose John as a friend forever and that was something that he could never allow to happen.  He would rather this unrequited love last for his entire life, than to lose John. 

 

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock had done little else to calm himself down.  He had now moved onto his bed, and was glaring at his phone, when he heard the tap at the window.  Sitting up tall, Sherlock turned around, a strange calm going over him as he realized this was it.  This was John coming to tell him that he didn’t want to be friends anymore.  That he realized everyone was right, and Sherlock was a freak.  Sherlock swallowed and crawled over his bed, and made it to the window, unlatching, and taking a deep breath before opening it.  

 

“Sherlock, why is your phone off?  Where have you been?”  John asked as he scrambled onto Sherlock’s bed.  After hesitating a moment, his voice dropped to nothing more than a whisper and he asked, “What did that message mean, Sherlock?”

 

“Go ahead, John.  Tell me I’m horrible.  That you would never want to keep a friend like me.  That I have no right to be jealous of your arms around someone else.  Or that I’m pathetic because I can barely pull my head out of bed in the mornings, just trying to catch any last trace of your scent that lingers there.  I know I shouldn’t—“ 

 

Sherlock tried to continue on with his rant, but John had moved up close to him, grabbing a hold of his hands which had been wildly flailing around, and held them still at his side.  

 

“Sherlock,” John whispered, face moving ever closer.  “Tell me what that message meant.  Please.”

 

“I, uh, well, I just.  When you left, the other day, and you, you know.  When we were there and then we,” Sherlock huffed out a rough breath before saying with a trembling voice, “kissed.  Then you posted that picture of you and Mary.”

 

Sherlock attempted a sneer, but felt like maybe nothing but despair was being shown on his face.

 

“Oh, Sherlock, no.  Whatever you’re thinking, no.  Didn’t you see the caption?  It was just talking about voting for student council elections, Sherlock!  Mary and I were both nominated.”

 

Sherlock turned quickly, trying to hide the tears that were falling down his face, admonishing himself for theorizing before knowing all the facts.  Now, here he was about to lose John as a best friend all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and ended up admitted how he felt.

 

Sherlock’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop and he felt a warm, comforting heat coming up behind him.  

 

“Sherlock,” John whispered in his ear.  “You’re being sentimental,” John finished, grabbing Sherlock’s hand in his. 

 

“I am not!” Sherlock nearly shrieked indignantly, but it was ruined by the hiccup that came after. 

 

“Sherlock,” John said, as he turned Sherlock around.  “Can I kiss you now?  Please?”

 

Sherlock felt his heart drop into his stomach and his knees go weak and he nodded his head up and down.

 

John, not wasting another moment, lunges forward, completely closing any possible space between the two, as he grabs Sherlock by the hips, and pulls him forward, sliding his lips over Sherlocks.  

 

Sherlock loses himself in the kiss, and doesn’t even realize John had started speaking.

 

“Sherlock, you have to know that if I had any idea you wanted this, it would have been you so long ago.  No one but you.  I had no idea this was something you wanted,” John says, between kissing trailing from Sherlocks jaw, down his neck, and onto his sternum. 

 

“John, can you please touch me?,” Sherlock asked, breathless.

 

“Oh.  Yea, yes.  Please.” John grunted out, hands reaching to Sherlock’s back.  

 

John’s hands scrabble over Sherlock’s back, moving lower, to the edge of the towel wrapped around his waist, and Sherlock whimpers.  

 

“Fuck, Sherlock, I want to touch you, but I just ran over here.  I woke up as soon as your message came through and I just ran.  I need to just sit, but please, please don’t make me stop touching you.  I want to touch you for the rest of our lives, Sherlock.” John said, taking a few steps back, hands still wrapped around Sherlock, to sink down into Sherlock’s desk chair.  “C’mere,” John said, pulling Sherlock down by the shoulders, and letting the head of curls rest in his lap.  

 

Sherlock nuzzled his head in John’s lap, and wasn’t disappointed to find a very erect cock, digging into his cheek.  He rubbed against it, breath coming out more as a pant.  “John.”

 

John’s hands were freely roaming around Sherlock’s back, and each pass toward his arse, his hand bravely pushed the towel a bit lower, until John could see the top of Sherlock’s arse cheeks.

 

“Wait, John, wait.” Sherlock said, getting up, and moving to the table by his bed.  He rummaged around until he found the small bottle and made his way back to John, dropping down low onto his knees once again.  “Here, can you— will you please touch me?” Sherlock asked, handing John the bottle of lube, removing his own towel, laying his head back down into John’s lap and arching his back, so that his arse was prominently displayed.  

 

“Oh, fuck, Sherlock,” John rushed out, flipping the cap open, and smearing the slick over his fingers.  With his clean hand, he reached his fingers into Sherlock’s curls, and started lightly pulling, kneading his hands into Sherlock’s thick hair.  His other hand travelled from the back of Sherlock’s neck, down his back and reached between the cleft of his cheeks.  John began panting at this point, and pulled Sherlock’s hair, lifting his head, and asked “Are you sure?  Oh, God, please Sherlock, tell me you’re sure.”

 

Nodding his head as best as he could in John’s firm grip, Sherlock leaned forward more, to give John better access. 

 

John used his slick fingers to move down the cleft, and found Sherlock’s tight, furled hole.  He massaged around the rim, marveling in just how hot it felt on his fingers.  He used one finger to circle the ring, pushing a little harder each pass directly over Sherlock’s hole.  Sherlock was already a whimpering, writhing mess, and John wasn’t faring much better.  John reaching forward, and pressed just the tip of his finger inside of Sherlock.  Sherlock gave a quiet yell, and began gnawing on John’s inner thigh.  John used the tip of his finger and pumped into Sherlock over and over again, feeling Sherlock slowly loosening up.  

 

After five minutes, John had nearly his entire finger in, and Sherlock was begging for John to add a second.

“Please, I need more, John,” he begged, his head tossing and turning in John’s lap, a wet spot from where Sherlock had pressing open mouthed kisses over John’s hard dick.  

 

“Yea, love, anything you want,” John panted out, small thrusts of his hips coming up with each press into Sherlock arsehole.  He pulled his fingers out, applied a little more lube, and slid two back into Sherlock, feeling Sherlock’s body willingly and gladly accepting them.  Sherlock moaned so loud, John was briefly worried about someone else in the house hearing.  

 

“John, John.  John.  John.” Sherlock was panting out.  “John, I’m so close.  I’m so close to coming.  John.  Ah!” 

 

“Yea, Sherlock.  Come for me.” John grunted out directly into Sherlock’s ear, fingers persistently pumping into Sherlock, grazing against his prostate.

 

Then Sherlock sighed aloud, as he came all over his bedroom floor, steadily pushing his arse back onto John’s fingers.

 

“John, John,” he groaned, body going limp.  

 

“That’s it, Sherlock.  God, you’re so beautiful.”

 

Sherlock lifted his head, and quickly moved his come covered hands to John’s pants, unbuttoning the jeans, unzipping the zips, and fumbling with John’s pants until they were pulled far enough to take out John’s cock.  

 

“Oh, fuck, Sherlock,” John said as he reached down and firmly grasped his cock.  He took himself in hand and started steadily jerking himself off.  Sherlock’s face was still in his lap, bottom lip turning white as he bit it, and nearly begging, “Please, John, come on me, please.”

 

John came with a groan, head back, eyes closed, and Sherlock took full advantage of that to lick every last drop that spilled between them. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ScienceOfDeduction: John, don’t forget to finish your English homework.  It’s due tomorrow. 

capnwatson15: why dont u come over & help me with it, genius :)

ScienceOfDeduction: If I come over will you finish it without complaining? 

capnwatson15: have to come over and find out wont u?

ScienceOfDeduction: How about this: If I suck your dick, will you finish all the English homework and the physics homework that’s due on Friday without complaining?

capnwatson15: u really are the perfect boyfriend. i love you.

 


End file.
